Random
by Windy City Dreamer
Summary: Just a weird little something I wrote a little while ago while trying to write a GCR post King Baby one shot. Didn't really work out. Slight GCR, CWR, and antiGSR. Posted for not very good reasons at all. Inside jokes abound.


A/N: Like the summary said, this is just something weird that came about while I was trying to write some GCR. Posted due to my friends insistence (and my equal insanity). Read on if you dare.

"I did miss you. I missed your passion and your tenacity. I even missed your tush."

Catherine, a sip of her drink having gone down the wrong tube, chokes out an amused, "Really? Thank you."

Detective Brass walks up in the midst of this all. "Sorry to interrupt," he says. "I miss the punch line?"

"Yeah," Catherine answered, her tone still amused and her gaze slid back to meet Grissom's.

Grissom smirked, as close to out-right laughter as he tended to get and raised his own glass to his lips, a gleam in his eye that gave Catherine pause before she turned her attention back to Brass.

Brass either doesn't notice the exchange or pretends not too, and recounts his encounter with their victim's mother. After he'd finished giving his take on the mother and they'd engaged in a brief discussion of culpability, Brass shook his head, his expression puzzled.

"You know, what I can't get my mind wrapped around is, uh, you got a guy  
who's tough enough to get to the top of the heap in Vegas, all this power, and  
he ends up crawling around a playpen."

Grissom looked at him. "That's the point, isn't it? It's only the truly powerful that have  
the luxury to relinquish power."

Catherine raised an incredulous eyebrow, "But diapers?"

Grissom's shrug was minute. "Why not? Where would you go if you had the connections and the cash to go anywhere you wanted?"

Brass shrugged. "I hear Fiji's nice."

Grissom's tone was slightly philosophical as he said, "Eiger went further. He went all the way back to his childhood."

Brass looked unimpressed. "Yeah. I think I'd take Fiji."

A thoughtful silence came over the small group a moment before the waitress showed up with Brass' beer. He'd barely had two sips when the persistent _beep-beep beep-beep beep-beep _of a pager broke through the half-hearted discussion of an upcoming seminar they'd all be attending.

All three reached for their pagers, checking the tiny screens. Brass was the lucky winner.

He sighed as he rose and pulled out his wallet, extracting a few bills to pay for his beer, holding up a hand to halt the inevitable "I'll get it" that was on the tip of the respective tongues of both Catherine and Grissom. "I got it," he said and paused before adding, "I tell you, sometimes I wonder why they even bother with a schedule. You're never 'off the clock'."

"No rest for the righteous," Grissom stated.

"Yeah? So what's my excuse?" Brass quipped and Catherine smirked. "I'll see you two later."

They watched as Brass made his exit.

"You know, he's got a point there. About being off the clock," Catherine mused, eyeing her drink. "They say jump, we say 'how high?'"

Grissom gave a small shrug. "It's the job."

Catherine raised her gaze and switched to eyeing him. "Doesn't mean we have to like it."

Grissom tilted his head forward in a gesture of concession. "No. We don't. But there are a lot of things we don't like."

Catherine raised an eyebrow; his tone made it obvious he'd been referring to something specific. "Care to share?"

Now it was his turn to gaze absently into his drink, the fact that it was clear proof that it wasn't the object of his thoughts.

When he didn't respond right away, Catherine tried again. "Ecklie?"

Grissom gave a soft, almost inaudible huff of laughter. "Well, yes. But that's not exactly a mystery."

Catherine smiled. "So what is it? An old case? A perp? Or the one that got away?"

Grissom looked at her in confusion. "You know I don't take the cases home with me."

Catherine let that slide; she was able to recall a few times when the opposite had been true. "That last one wasn't referring to cases, Gil."

"Oh." His gaze dropped once more to his drink and Catherine was sure he'd do one of his famous conversation changes. She was going to redirect the conversation herself when his gaze snapped back up to hers, his eyes startlingly intense. "Actually, yes. That is one of them."

Both eyebrows were at attention as Catherine shifted in her chair, seeking a more comfortable position. "Really? Mind if I ask who?" She may as well push and see where it got her.

Grissom didn't say anything for a long moment, though this time Catherine wasn't going to attempt to change the subject. He got uncomfortable, he was more than capable of doing that himself.

She was taking another sip of her drink, still watching him inquisitively when he decided to break the silence.

"You," he said, and for the second time that evening Catherine found herself choking on her drink.

Grissom, concerned, began to rise from his chair intent on assisting her, but she raised her free hand, her right hand currently pressed to her chest, and sputtered something that sounded like, "I'm fine."

He didn't look convinced and only retook his seat after her coughing had subsided and the other patrons of the restaurant had stopped staring.

She reached up and brushed some hair from her face before squaring Grissom with a look. "Me?"

He sighed and looked like he distinctly wished he hadn't broached the topic, or at least hadn't participated in it. "Yes, you."

"Gil I don't know what to say. I mean really, I don't have a clue. Ashley can't think of anymore dialogue."

"Really? That's fascinating. She never seems to have trouble with me."

"That's probably because she only writes you into a scene when it's completely necessary."

Grissom looks taken aback. Or at least as taken aback as one can look without displaying emotions. "I wonder why that is…"

"Hmmm. Maybe because having no emotions makes you a really boring character to write, Gil. Or maybe it's because I'm prettier."

"That is true," he conceded. "But she thinks I have a nice butt."

"Well, she thinks my butt is pretty good too. Word on the street is that she's none-too-happy with Tom and Bob though."

"Really? That's too bad. I think they're pretty great."

Catherine grinned. "Really?"

Grissom smirked. "Of course. I mean this is supposed to be a GC fic. I think it's appropriate that I like your boobs."

"What about the 'company ink' crap you're always talking about?"

He waves a dismissive hand, "I just said that to get Sara off my back."

Catherine nods. "Ah, smart move. She was really clingy. Sad. Pathetic, really."

"Yes, it was…" He pauses what appears to be a modest amount of time before continuing. "So, you wanna head to my hermetically sealed townhouse? You could be my butterfly and I've got silk."

Catherine pulled a face and rose from her seat. "Can't. Maybe next fic. Tonight I've got a date with Warrick and a tub of CoolWhip. I bring the jelly."

Grissom looked disappointed, mildly so of course. "Ok. Some other time then. But be sure its right after a case that actually gets to me, or you screw up. That's when I'm emotionally available."

Catherine nodded. "Duly noted. See you later, Gil."

"Goodnight Cath."

A/N2: So…-cough-… 


End file.
